Chapter 2-3

“It’s here!”

Jane’s voice rang out, loud and bright. She could hardly remember the last time she’d raised her voice like that. For four years it had been work, work, and more work… and work rarely required chatter or shouting. Naturally. She was not the public-facing representative.

In any case, a reply had arrived—from Ruelne Scharnhost, the student she had begun sponsoring!

‘I was half convinced no answer would ever come.’

Of course, she had planned to hold out hope until at least the tenth letter. But Bianca had insisted that if three letters in a row went unanswered, it was as good as a firm rejection. That they’d likely been torn to shreds and tossed in the bin. And coming from someone educated at Cademel, the claim had sounded credible.

‘At least I made sure he couldn’t refuse the sponsorship itself,’ she had thought.

And yet, contrary to Bianca’s prediction, a reply had come.

What could it say? Jane felt as though she had been transported back to childhood, waiting for a birthday present. Her mother had often gifted her ores or raw gemstones she had mined herself.

Jane had grown up in comfort, lacking for nothing—but perhaps because of that, she had treasured those carefully chosen stones all the more. The same fluttering anticipation now filled her chest.

She quickly unfolded the letter.

‘Wow…’

Jane’s eyes sparkled as she stared at the letter—brighter than when she had discovered a diamond mine, brighter even than when she had succeeded in a venture no one believed would prosper.

Her delight carried over to Bianca, who had come in shortly after to deliver a report. Catching sight of the letter, Bianca’s expression crumpled instantly.

“…Isn’t this a telegram rather than a letter?”

“Oh, don’t be silly. It says it’s a letter, so it’s a letter.”

“…What is with this rudeness, honestly?”

As Bianca pointed out, the letter lacked courtesy and respect—but Jane didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“What does that matter? The important thing is that he replied. Don’t you see?”

Jane tapped the letter proudly.

“A reply means… he’s officially accepting the sponsorship.”

Bianca blinked. She had momentarily overlooked it, but Jane was right.

In truth, Bianca had quietly investigated Ruelne further out of concern. She had contacted underclassmen at Cademel and even pulled strings to learn more about the boys’ academy. The tragic young lord had never once accepted the many offers of support and temptation extended to him.

‘Well, with genuine sponsorships nearly extinct… I wouldn’t have let an opportunity like this slip by either.’

Why, then, had that suspicious young lord accepted Jane’s sponsorship alone? As a friend, she felt guilty admitting it, but Jane’s letters hardly seemed compelling enough to win anyone’s favor.

“Good. I’ll send another letter. Would you step out?”

“Yes, yes. Letter or telegram, whatever you call it—just sign these first, Representative.”

“Later!”

---

A week later.

Jane went out. The weather was lovely. Wearing her favorite dress and carrying a parasol, she walked with a bright smile. Her destination was Fourth Street—the place where she had first seen Ruelne.

‘I can’t go to the boys’ academy, but this far should be fine.’

She didn’t expect to see him. She only wanted to savor the joy of finally receiving his reply here as well.

Strictly speaking, not the exact street where they had first crossed paths, but a small fountain plaza a little further in. Tucked away in a corner, and overshadowed by the larger, grander fountain in the main square, it was comparatively quiet.

Flap— A bird took flight. Watching it, Jane quickened her steps.

‘Maybe I’ll write the next letter here.’

For the past few days, Jane had been in such high spirits that she couldn’t even focus on her business. A new field had caught her interest, and everything else had been pushed to the sidelines. Glen, Bianca, Max, and Camilla all seemed quietly pleased. After working them to the bone like that, maybe they thought she ought to rest for once.

Suppressing a chuckle, Jane made her way toward the fountain. She circled around to the back—and her eyes widened.

‘Huh?’

To her surprise, someone she hadn’t expected was sitting there. A young-looking boy with one leg crossed over the other.

Ruelne.

Under the light, his pale skin seemed almost luminous. In his hands were a clipboard and a portable pen. The moment she noticed the letter resting on the board, a smile slipped from her without her realizing.

‘The letter I sent two days ago—has it arrived?’

She’d been so excited she’d written three whole pages. Had he read them all?

After receiving nothing but curt, clipped letters until now, had he been taken aback?

More than that, the new uniform suited him remarkably well. The fact that it was the one she had gifted him filled her with quiet pride. She hoped he would eat well from now on. Wear good clothes. Stay healthy. Graduate safely.

She wanted nothing else.

And what did Jane gain in return?

‘Maybe the joy and delight I lost over the past few years?’

Ruelne would never know how precious this feeling was to her—how long it had been since she’d felt it.

Still, that was fine.

‘It’s a win-win.’

She had spotted Ruelne, but she had no intention of approaching him, greeting him, or striking up a conversation. She would simply take a quiet look, then sit a short distance away and write her own letter.

After all, what he was writing was probably a reply addressed to her. To sit side by side, unknowingly writing letters meant for each other—what could be more romantic? More tender?

Jane hummed softly under her breath. For a brief moment, Ruelne’s gaze shifted in her direction, but she didn’t notice. Just as she happened to turn her head—

Oh.

Click, click. Scratch…

Ruelne’s brows were drawn together in a frown. With his delicate features, even that looked like something out of a painting—but the real problem was the pen in his hand. It seemed to be malfunctioning; no ink was coming out. Though he couldn’t see, he somehow sensed it, giving the pen an experimental shake.

“Um…”

Ruelne’s head snapped up. Irritation colored his expression, though his gaze failed to land on her. Jane barely managed to hold back a laugh at the sulky look on his face.

When they had first met—when he’d saved her—he hadn’t been like this. Now, though, he looked his age.

‘He’s adorable.’

She’d grown up an only child, but was this what it would feel like to have a much younger brother?

“May I help you?”

Ruelne’s expression crumpled instantly, wary and guarded. But seeing it a second time, it wasn’t nearly as startling.

‘He really seems to hate being touched.’

Though she knew he couldn’t see, Jane pointed at the pen in his hand.

“I have a spare pen. Would you like to use it?”

“……”

Still frowning, Ruelne lowered his gaze briefly toward his hand before lifting his head again. Jane assumed he would refuse. It wouldn’t matter much either way. If she left the pen beside him, he’d use it eventually.

But—

“…Yes. I’d appreciate that.”

His voice was cool, even cold—but impeccably polite. Jane’s eyes widened slightly. Only for a moment. Carefully, she extended the pen toward him, taking great care not to let their hands touch.

“It should be right in front of your hand.”

Despite her effort, as Ruelne reached for it, his fingers brushed against her skin.

He flinched.

The reaction was unmistakable. A second later, once he had a proper grip on the pen, Jane quickly let go.

“Then I’ll be going. Ah, I’ll be sitting just over there… I mean, to your right, sir. When you’re done, just leave the pen on the bench and I’ll retrieve it.”

“Wait.”

Jane froze.

“…How did you know I can’t see?”

Right. She’d been too natural about it. She realized that belatedly—but didn’t let it show.

“That cane—you know, I once visited the orphanage. A teacher there used a cane shaped just like yours.”

Not a single word was a lie. At least, not exactly.

“If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

“…No. You didn’t.”

That was the end of it. Taking the hint, Jane moved away. As she passed in front of him, she noticed him resume writing with the pen she’d given him. How did he write when he couldn’t see? She had only glanced out of curiosity—how on earth had he noticed?

Ruelne’s head jerked up again.

Jane startled.

“Please don’t stare.”

“Ah… um, sorry. My mistake.”

She hurried to apologize, all the while thinking how unbearably cute he looked with that prickly, sulky expression. She beamed.

“Have a nice time.”

After settling down not far from Ruelne, Jane was conscious of the boy nearby at first—but only briefly. Soon she was completely absorbed in writing her letter, losing track of time.

When she finally lifted her head, she realized she had no idea how much time had passed.

The world had turned red.

‘The sunset.’

After her parents passed away, she hadn’t been able to watch sunsets for a long time.

It had been her family’s favorite thing—taking walks beneath a sky painted in dusk. Even now, four years later, it was still difficult. And yet, today felt strangely peaceful.

That was probably because—

Jane glanced sideways.

Though quite some time had passed, Ruelne hadn’t left. For some reason, he was staring intently at a sheet of paper she recognized all too well.

It was the letter she had sent.

‘He can’t see—so what is he looking at so hard?’

She was curious. Of course, she had enclosed an official Braille version alongside the letter, devised by the Empire for the blind. But he showed no sign of reading it with his fingers. Instead, he simply held the paper close, gazing at it as though trying to catch the scent of the ink.

No—he was staring at it like it was an enemy.

Curiosity got the better of her. Breaking her promise to herself not to speak again, she stepped closer.

“Are you curious about something?”

Ruelne didn’t startle. He merely lifted his head, a faint displeasure in his expression.

His unfocused violet eyes were strangely beautiful. No doubt about it—once he came of age, he would grow into the kind of man everyone admired, the kind no one could help but be drawn to.

“You’ve just been looking at it. I wondered if perhaps the sender gave you a letter too rude to read.”

“What does it matter to you?”

“It’s a bit rude, I know—but consider it light curiosity. Surely that’s allowed as repayment for lending you a pen?”

Ruelne pressed his lips together.

“It’s not a letter mocking me. There’s Braille.”

“Then why were you looking at it?”

“I don’t wish to say.”

“I see.”

His fingers idly traced the edge of the paper.

“If you don’t like reading Braille, you could ask someone to read it aloud. These days there are plenty of professional readers.”

The era was prosperous. Prosperity and art walked hand in hand; poetry readings often featured professional reciters. If Ruelne wanted one, Jane would gladly arrange it.

“I truly dislike other people touching my belongings.”

He answered her properly, despite his prickly tone and tightly drawn expression. Really—he was like a cat crying pitifully under the eaves, yet refusing to let anyone come close.

She liked that about him.

And nothing else really mattered.

“Hm. Then shall I read it for you? No, right—you said you dislike others touching your things.”

Jane immediately withdrew the offer she had just made. What was she thinking, saying that to someone who had declared, not three seconds ago, that he hated others handling his possessions? She’d satisfied her curiosity. She shouldn’t burden her dear sponsored student any further.

Yes. That had been her intention.

But—

The silent Ruelne stopped her.

“Yes. Please read it.”

It was a quiet voice, but more than enough to catch her ankle mid-step.

“…What?”

“I said, read it.”

Jane blinked.

Come to think of it… what exactly had she written in her reply?

No—before that, what had Ruelne written to her?

Right. A letter bearing that same prickly expression he wore now.

It had been a letter brimming with wariness—yet for the first time, also courtesy.

And in response, she had sent something very long indeed.

But the gist of it was simple: yes—all she wanted was the letter.¹

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Footnotes

1. To be honest, not sure this is translated correctly. The essence of it seems to be that in summary, there was no ulterior motive. All she wanted was what she had already made clear. ↩